


We'll Make Them Turn Their Heads Every Place We Go

by EveFrancesca



Category: New Girl
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveFrancesca/pseuds/EveFrancesca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So the thing is, she's pregnant. (Future fic, spoilers up to and including 2x20 "Chicago")</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Make Them Turn Their Heads Every Place We Go

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or this show. Title is from the classic song Be My Baby, which I also don't own. All I own is a lot of student debt and this neat keychain I got once. It's a flashlight.
> 
> This is my first New Girl fic (and in fact, my first fic ever), so I make no claim that it's any good. Anything up to 2x20 (Chicago) is considered fair game, spoiler-wise. I'm purposefully vague about the timeline here, but Nick and Jess are already an established couple, so let's go with that.

So the thing is, she's pregnant.

Jess stands at the sink, looking at two pink lines on the test, the fifth test she's taken. (How did this _happen_? She's a teacher, for crying out loud. She can put a condom on a cucumber in, like, five seconds, blindfolded, like she's in the Army. Except the Army assembles guns, not sexually safe foodstuffs, and this is REALLY NOT THE POINT.

The point is, Nick is going to freak out and panic-moonwalk to Canada.)

"Damn it," she whimpers under her breath.

***

Nick walks into the loft to find Jess sitting on the floor with her knees pulled up to her chest. He frowns at the sight of her in flannel pajamas in the middle of the day, with a neglected cup of tea by her side and the most forlorn expression he's ever seen.

"Hey, Jess," he says, walking gingerly towards her. "Just sitting on the floor, huh? Is this a thing now? Wait, have you been watching My Girl again? Babe, I keep telling you--"

She looks up at him and the sight of her stricken blue eyes stops him in his tracks. 

"Hey," he says softly, crouching down, touching his thumb to her chin. "What is it?" 

He feels his insides clench as her face crumples and disappears into her hands. Alarmed, he sits next to her and puts an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close.

"Plea-ease don't hate me-e," she hiccups into his chest before dissolving into a fresh round of sobs. His heart breaks a little.

"Jess. _Jessica_. Come on. I could never hate you. Tell me what's wrong. Please." 

She tilts her tearstained face up to his. 

"Please," he whispers.

Bowing her head, she takes a shuddering breath and closes her eyes. "I'm pregnant." 

Silence.

Having dropped the bomb, she opens one eye and looks up at Nick, not knowing what to expect beyond some kind of turtle-face. Maybe the kind of turtle that was almost extinct and therefore grumpier than all the rest of the turtles combined. The kind of turtle that listens to a lot of Wilco.

Instead, she sees him looking at her with an expression she can't quite name. Not happiness, exactly. Definitely not anger. Sort of like -- she remembers the time when she baked him those chocolate Guinness cupcakes. He had been skeptical, but had bitten into one and looked at her in brow-furrowed amazement.

("How is this good? These two things shouldn't work," he mumbled around a mouthful of delicious cupcake.

"And yet they do," she chirped, leaning over to kiss an errant smudge of frosting from the corner of his lips.)

So yeah, he's looking at her kind of like that.

"Pregnant," he says, after what feels like a thousand years. "Like... with your body."

"Yes," she sniffles. "My oven's got a bun in it."

"It -- okay." He slaps his face, once, twice. "And you're sure? About the, uh, bun-like status?"

She nods, waiting for the freak-out. 

"Okay," he says quietly, almost to himself. "Okay."

Jess blinks at him. "Okay? That's all you have to say?"

Nick looks confused. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," she shakes her head. "No. It's just -- I expected you to lose it. Panic. Be mad. Something."

He smiles at her a little, the small smile he keeps just for her. "I'm not mad, Jess."

She smiles tentatively back at him. "What are you, then?"

"I'm--" he exhales shakily. "I'm not sure yet. I didn't expect this. I thought we were, you know. Preventing."

"We were," she says. "I don't know what happened. I mean, I know what happened, I just don't know what happened."

"Right," he says. "Well. That clears it up."

She shoves him with her shoulder. "Don't be mean."

"I'm not being mean," he laughs. "Would I be mean to the mother of my child?"

They both go quiet and look at each other, and her mind flashes to a swingset, to a laughing little boy with dark eyes. She feels the knot in her stomach loosen.

(She doesn't know that right now he's seeing a little blue-eyed girl, dancing around the breakfast table and singing about how much she looooves pancakes. He doesn't tell her.)

"So what happens now?" she says, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt.

He gives her a turtle-face then, but it's the kind that she knows is hiding a smile because his eyes are warm and kind of crinkly. "Well, Jessica, I guess we have a baby."

***

They're sitting next to each other on the couch while Schmidt and Winston take turns berating them.

"Do you even understand what you've done here, Nicholas?" Schmidt yells. "The loft dynamic already took a savage beating when you two decided to go against my wishes and form this -- this liaison. And now your loins have produced fruit!"

"Ew, Schmidt," Jess wrinkles her nose. (Under any other circumstances, she'd have pointed him towards the Douchebag Jar, but doesn't want to push it in this case.)

"I think what Schmidt is trying to say," Winston interjects, "However disgustingly he is expressing it, is that we obviously have some real concerns as to how this is going to play out. Nick, what was the first thing I said to you when you and Jess started hooking up for real?"

Nick frowns. "I don't see what that has to do with this situation."

Winston pauses, a slightly guilty look passing over his face. "Okay, the second thing I said."

"'Don't go bringin' any babies around here'," Nick mumbles.

"And what did you do?" Winston says, folding his arms and glaring at the two of them.

"Irresponsible!" Schmidt snaps. "I can't believe you would be this careless. Him, I believe, but you, Jess?"

"It's not like we planned this, guys," Jess says. "Sometimes these things happen. Even to responsible adults. It's not like we're the first people this has happened to--" She cut herself off before mentioning Cece's pregnancy scare. Somehow that felt like crossing a line, but she could see from the wounded look on Schmidt's face that he was thinking of it too.

"Be that as it may, Jessica," he spits, "What's relevant right now is that that everybody in this loft is affected by this little mistake."

" _Hey,_ " Nick says it sharply enough that even Schmidt looks chastened. "Enough."

Winston raises his hands placatingly. "Okay, everybody cool down. We just gotta figure out how this is going to work. I mean, you guys obviously can't afford your own place, so what's gonna happen? Our crazy-ass landlord is not gonna like five people living here, even if one of them is small enough to live in Schmidt's weird sex closet."

Jess unconsciously places a protective hand over her abdomen. "My baby is not sleeping by that insane mural. He'll wind up a serial killer."

Nick raises an eyebrow at her. 

"What?" she says.

"You think it's a boy?" he grins at her.

"I don't know," she smiles. "Maybe."

"Focus," Winston says. "Schmidt's about to have an aneurysm." 

Nick sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, we've talked about it a little bit. Jess and I basically share a room now, so there's a room free for the baby to sleep in. Our schedules line up enough that one of us will pretty much always be home with it, so you guys won't have to babysit much, if at all. This is not a permanent situation. We'll figure something out eventually."

Schmidt looks horrified. "Babysit? Do you even understand what smudgy little hands could do to my complexion? My dermatologist already has me on a payment plan."

Nick groans. "Schmidt, why? You have no skin problems."

"You think that happens by accident, Nicholas? You're the dumbest boy in all the land."

"Besides," Nick continues as if he hasn't heard, "It won't be that often. Hardly at all. But I'm sure this kid would love hanging out with Uncle Schmidtty."

Schmidt looks at him warily. "Uncle Schmidtty?"

Jess realizes what Nick's doing. "Of course. Who else could teach our baby the finer points of Japanese fusion cuisine? Or what kind of pocket square goes with what suit?"

"No one, that's who," Schmidt says. "Certainly not Nick. Imagine Nick trying to teach anyone how to dress. Ha!"

Nick starts to protest, but Jess shakes her head almost imperceptibly. 

Winston sighs. "This is probably going to be a disaster, you know. But hell, you guys have surprised me so far. Let's do this."

Jess sniffles (so teary lately, GOD) and jumps off the couch to pull both Schmidt and Winston into a bone-crushing hug.

"Congratulations," Schmidt chokes out. "I hope it looks like you and not Nick."

"Thanks, man," Nick says, clapping him on the shoulder.

***

As they lie in bed later that night, Nick can't stay still. Jess turns to him and lays a hand on his back. "Are you okay, Nick?"

He turns toward her, and even in the dark she can tell his eyes are troubled. "Do you think I'm gonna be a good dad?"

"What?" she says, leaning over to turn on the bedside lamp and blinking at the sudden brightness. "Of course I do. You're gonna be the best dad. Our kid'll be like 'man, my dad is so awesome, he can fix a sink with nothing but a piece of tinfoil and some chewing gum.' He'll think you're MacGyver."

"Kids don't know who MacGyver is anymore, Jess."

She reaches over and ruffles his hair. "Ours will."

"I'm serious, though."

"So am I. That show was brilliant."

"No, I mean -- Jess, I'm freaking out here a little bit." 

Her face sobers, and she starts softly stroking his hair, the way he likes but will never admit to. "Tell me."

He averts his eyes to stare at the ceiling. "I don't really know what's involved in being a dad. Walt was around, mostly, but he wasn't exactly a prime example of father material."

"You loved him, though." She says this quietly, almost in a whisper.

"Yeah." He swallows hard.

"But...?" Jess says questioningly.

"Jess, this can't be something I'm bad at. I mean, I have screwed up a lot of things, but I cannot screw up at raising a kid."

"Hey." She moves closer to him, laying her head on his chest. "You're gonna be fine. You're such a good person, Nick. You're like the best person I know."

He blinks twice, thankful that she can't see his face. "I think you've been drinking."

"Pregnant women can't drink, Nick," she says, rolling her eyes at him. "So I'm sober as a judge right now. You're just going to have to accept that your girlfriend thinks you're great. You're the bees' knees, Miller."

"The bees' knees?" he laughs into her hair.

"The bees' knees," she says firmly. "And the baby will think so too."

He presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. "You know I love you, right?"

"Of course I know, you clown," she says, yawning. "I love you back."

***

Jess wakes to the smell of eggs cooking. Putting on her robe, she walks out to the kitchen to find Winston reading the paper with Schmidt buzzing around the kitchen fixing breakfast.

"Good morning, boys," she says sleepily. "I'm going to have some coffee, does anyone want some?"

"Coffee?" Schmidt turns to her, frowning. "Jess, you can't have any coffee."

"What? I thought you weren't mad anymore, Schmidt."

He sighs, exasperated. "Pregnant women aren't supposed to drink coffee. All that caffeine. Turns their insides all jittery. Baby's born looking like Steve Buscemi."

"Pretty sure that's not true, Schmidt," Winston says without even looking up.

"But..." Jess looks wounded. "Coffee."

"I think we have some decaf around here somewhere from when I was doing a cleanse," Schmidt says, turning back to his omelette.

Nick stumbles out, bleary-eyed. "Morning."

"There he is," Schmidt says. "Man of the hour. You look like you haven't slept in months. But hey, get used to that. Do you want my ocean sounds playlist?"

"Shut up, Schmidt," Nick grumbles. "Coffee?"

Jess pouts.

"Hey, Winston," Schmidt grins, "If you had sympathy PMS, does this mean you're gonna have sympathy morning sickness?"

Winston glares at him. "That's ridiculous. Sympathy morning sickness is not a thing. Just because there's a woman up in here who's probably going to be throwing up all over the place does not mean I'm going to find myself feeling queasy at the smell of eggs--" He presses his lips together. "Excuse me for a minute."

Schmidt watches Winston run off with amusement. "So there you go, Jess. You're not alone in this. You have Winston as your partner in puking. And it looks like Nick is taking care of the sympathy weight gain already, am I right?"

***

"Matthias."

Nick wrinkles his nose. "Are you kidding? You're actually going to give birth to a ninety-year-old man? No. How about Heather?"

"Total mean girl name. She'd be like five years old and ripping on me for wearing headbands." Jess shakes her head. "Philip?"

"Philip Miller? Blech. What about Bella?"

"Twilight."

Nick looks pained. "Damn it, Twilight."

"It ruins everything," she smiles sympathetically. "Ooh, Otto!"

"Bond villain. Okay, here's one. Alexandria!"

"Bond _girl_." Jess tilts her head at him. "You know, I can't help but notice you're suggesting all girl names."

He shrugs. "I don't know. It'd be kind of neat to have a girl. You know, even out the loft gender imbalance a little bit."

"Noooo," she says, sing-song. "I think someone just wants a daughter. Sugar and spice and everything nice, Nick Miller. Who knew?"

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles, shutting the laptop and pulling her into a kiss. "Don't spread it around."

***

Jess practically skips into the doctor's office, swinging Nick's hand with hers. In spite of himself, he can't help but feel pretty damn excited. (Jess had woken him up this morning bouncing with excitement about it being ultrasound day. "We get to see the baby, finally! I mean, it'll look like a potato, probably, but it'll be like, a cute potato, and we can get that little picture and send it to our parents with a 'Hi, Grandma' speech balloon sticker on it! So cute." He'd nodded along, only half following her but loving the way her eyes lit up the room even more than the early morning sun.)

"Hello," Jess trills to the receptionist. "I'm here to see Dr. Sadie Kaufman for a sonogram."

"Name?" the receptionist says, looking bored.

"Jessica Day. I'm a friend of hers, actually--"

"Fill these out and we'll call you when she's ready," the receptionist interrupts, shoving a sheaf of papers at Jess.

"Sheesh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," Jess murmurs to Nick once they're safely out of earshot.

"Don't worry about her," Nick says. "I'm sure being around all these pregnant women must do weird stuff to your personality."

"Well, you're around just one pregnant woman, but I think you've become nicer," Jess says, shooting him a cheeky grin.

"I'm always nice," Nick says indignantly.

She's about to retort when Sadie walks out. "Jess? We're ready for you."

Jess squeezes his hand and beams as they follow Sadie into her office. Sadie sits at her desk and smiles at the two of them warmly. "Well, I guess congratulations are in order. How are you doing?"

"Great," Jess says, "I haven't felt sick or anything. My boobs don't even feel sore anymore."

Sadie chuckles ruefully. "You're lucky. My breasts were so sore with Lucy that it hurt to take a shower."

Nick shifts uncomfortably in his chair. Sadie turns to him. "And how are you, Nick?"

"Me? Oh, I'm awesome. All these pregnancy posters and pictures of vaginas around aren't making me uncomfortable at all."

Sadie nods at him. "Excellent. Let's fire up the ultrasound and see what's going on in there. By these dates, you should be almost eight weeks along, so we should be able to see something. Put on this gown and I'll meet you in the other room."

Jess turns to Nick, eyes shining. He feels his stomach doing flips as she gets ready. Following her into the ultrasound room, he takes a seat next to her as she hops up on the table, his palms sweating like a nervous prom date. (God, why is he so nervous?)

"Okay, here we go," Sadie says as she squeezes the gel onto Jess's abdomen. Jess yelps a little. "Sorry, I know that's cold."

"It's okay," Jess says, reaching out for Nick's hand and squeezing it.

Nick looks at the screen, waiting to see something, and then there it is. He's suddenly glad he's sitting, because his knees couldn't hold him up now if he tried. Like Jess said, it kind of looks like a potato, but damn it, it's their potato, and right now he thinks it's the most beautiful thing in the world except the woman holding his hand. 

They made that. Amazing.

"Nick, look," she says softly. "Hi there."

He smiles at her. Glancing at Sadie, his smile fades a little, as he notices the doctor's usually warm expression has become carefully neutral.

"How sure are you of your dates, Jess?" Sadie asks calmly.

"Oh, I'm sure. You know me, hormones off the charts and all that. My business is like clockwork," Jess giggles, still transfixed by the screen. Suddenly, Nick feels dread creeping up his spine. (He remembers walking down the street one day and watching a car accident happen. He thinks about how those few moments before impact seemed to drag on forever as he stood by, helpless to stop it.)

Sadie clears her throat. "I'm not sure how to say this."

Jess tears her eyes away from the screen, glancing between Sadie's sympathetic face and Nick's ashen one. "What?"

Sadie reaches over and lays a hand on Jess's arm. "Honey, there isn't a heartbeat."

"No, that's not right," Jess says, panic rising in her voice. "There's definitely a heartbeat at eight weeks. The books all said--"

Sadie shakes her head sadly. "I know, sweetie. It looks like your baby stopped growing at about six weeks. I'm so sorry."

Jess is openly sobbing now, and Sadie leans over to murmur soothing words to her. Nick sits, stone-faced. (He wonders if it will always feel this way. Like he breaks everything he touches.)

***

She's quiet on the drive home except for the occasional sniffle. Nick wants so badly to comfort her, to make all of it go away with Christmas lights or ridiculous dancing, but he can't fix this. Nothing can fix this.

Winston is on the couch when they walk into the loft. "Hey, guys, I'm headed to bed but I wanted to hear how the--" He breaks off mid-sentence, taking in Jess's red, tear-stained face and Nick's clenched jaw. "Oh."

Jess looks away, "I'm going to go lie down." Nick goes to follow her, but she stops him. "Can I be by myself for a while?"

He nods. "Of course. I'll check on you in a little bit."

Winston is silent until Jess's door closes with a soft click. "What happened, man?"

Nick shrugs. "They don't know. It just happens sometimes, I guess. Nothing we could have done about it."

"I'm sorry," Winston says, resting a hand on Nick's shoulder. "I know you guys were excited."

"She's in bad shape, man," Nick says, rubbing his forehead. "She didn't say a word on the way home."

Winston narrowed his eyes. "How are you, though?"

"Me?" Nick laughs bitterly. "I'm great. This morning I had the happiest girlfriend in the world and a baby on the way, and now I have an appointment to drive her to the hospital tomorrow to have this procedure done that horrifies me even to fucking think about, so yeah, I'm doing awesome, man."

Winston pulls him in for a tight hug, cutting off any further commentary. (He wonders why Winston's shirt feels damp beneath his face, and realizes he's been crying.)

***

She's curled up in a ball on her bed when she hears a knock at the door. "Jess?"

"Schmidt, not right now, please," she calls out. The door opens anyway. Schmidt looks at her with sad eyes and sits at the edge of her bed. Jess buries her face in the pillow.

They sit in silence for a long time, and Jess has the fleeting thought that this is a completely unnatural state for both of them. "Why are you here? And why are you not saying anything?"

"In Judaism, it's customary to be silent until the bereaved speaks first. I wanted to sit with you in your mourning," he says solemnly. 

"Oh," she says. Another beat of silence. "Thank you. I think maybe I'd like to be by myself, though."

"Okay," he nods. "But just so you know, you're not alone. We're all here, and we love you." He leans down and gives her a kiss on the forehead. 

(Sometimes she forgets that underneath all that douchebaggery, Schmidt has the biggest heart. She tells herself to keep that in mind the next time he says something awful.)

***

Nick and Jess lie awake in bed later that night, exhausted but unable to sleep.

"Nick?" Her voice sounds small and broken in the dark. "Do you think this is my fault?"

He feels what's left of his heart shatter just a bit more. "No. God, no. Of course not, Jess. Don't even think that. Sadie said there's nothing you could have done."

"I did sneak the coffee now and then, I couldn't help it, I was so tired--"

"Jessica." His voice cracks as he pulls her close. "This is not your fault. The coffee didn't do anything. You didn't do anything."

"I was so scared when I found out I was pregnant, maybe it thought we didn't love it enough--"

"God, stop, please," he chokes out, his throat feeling like concrete. "It doesn't work like that. If that baby knew anything, it knew that it was loved. There's so much love in you, Jess. You love everything."

She whimpers, and he rocks her, shushing her with soft notes punctuated with soft kisses to her hair, like a lullaby he'd forgotten he knew. ( _You'll never know, dear, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away..._ )

***

A month later, they're walking in the park. Nick steals a glance at her, thinking that she looks like herself, all bright skirts and glasses again. Her eyes sometimes look sad, but they still make him think of the ocean. (He remembers the first time he looked at her, like really looked at her, and how he had thought about how pretty she was. Not hot, not stunningly gorgeous, but just... pretty.

She's those other things too, but he remembers that one first.)

She's looking at a swingset now, and her face is thoughtful.

"Do you think--" she cuts herself off.

"Do I think what?" he says.

She almost looks shy when she turns to him. "Do you think... maybe someday we could, you know. Try again?"

He smiles at her then. "Yeah, Jess. I'd like that, someday."

She bumps against him, smiling. "You wanna go get pancakes? I'm hungry."

(She doesn't know that right now he's thinking of the ring he's started putting money towards at the jewelry store. He doesn't tell her.)

"Let's go."


End file.
